


When a Lord Catches a Lady

by youwouldbemylady



Series: Love Unexpected [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, and besides some characters are suprises, and eventual, i will add more character tags as they show up bc im too lazy to add them all now, or at least one is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:07:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21719683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youwouldbemylady/pseuds/youwouldbemylady
Summary: Arya Stark had always been ever so curious (among other things), she could always be found snooping into things she shouldn’t and it usually tended to land her into trouble, but that never stopped her. Though, she supposed that it should have, as she may even be going a bit too far to satiate her curiosity-- what with her donning boy’s clothes and breaking into a Duke’s house in the middle of the night.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: Love Unexpected [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565437
Comments: 73
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! so i just wanna say a big thanks to the-end-is-kigh on tumblr for going over this for me, she’s a saint!!! this fic has been a long time coming. like. since gendrya week of 2018. i saw the prompt “caught red handed” and it inspired this whole fic, which im grateful for because i’ve always wanted to write a regency romance fic for these characters, especially in the style of the regency romance novels that are written nowadays. those are my faves. which, speaking of, the summary im using is just a placeholder for now because i want to write something that's more along the lines of what you read on the backs of modern regency romance novels, but i've got to write quite a bit more of this before im able to change it.
> 
> anyways, i wrote most of this last summer in a notebook but got writer’s block and then finally transferred it to my computer THIS summer, where i’ve been working on it in bits and pieces these last couple months and i got stuck for a bit there, but this past week i finally pushed through and finished chapter one and i have to say im pleased with what i’ve got so far. this is my first gendrya fic i’ve ever published on here so i really hope you all enjoy!!

**August, 1807**

**Westfeld, Yorkshire, England**

Arya Stark had always been ever so curious (among other things), she could always be found snooping into things she shouldn’t and it usually tended to land her into trouble, but that never stopped her. Though, she supposed that it should have, as she may even be going a bit too far to satiate her curiosity-- what with her donning boy’s clothes and breaking into a Duke’s house in the middle of the night.

But how could one blame her when the new Duke of Storm’s End had such a mysterious past?  _ Supposedly _ he was the long lost first born son of Robert Baratheon. He showed up only a year ago right before the former Duke wound up on his deathbed. Robert had  _ apparently _ been searching for him for some time-- ever since he’d found out about his former wife’s betrayal and subsequently divorced her. Robert had told all of high society that he’d married long ago, in secret, a lowborn woman and when his father found out, he threatened to disinherit him, so Robert left his new wife, though not through divorce, and she died months later in childbirth and that child was given up to an orphanage. Robert didn’t find out till he somehow,  _ miraculously _ , found a letter, hidden by his father, from said woman, revealing all in the midst of his divorce. 

All of this sounded very convenient to Arya, like a neatly wrapped up ending to one of the books her sister used to read. And despite Arya’s never ending curiosity, she wouldn’t even be in her predicament if she hadn’t found a letter addressed to her father from Robert himself-- written the day before he died-- wanting his son to be wed to one of his daughters. And since her sister had since been married within the past year, that only left her.  _ And since _ her father had always been an honorable man, how could he do anything but accept what had been the final request of a dying man-- a dying man that had been like a brother to him? 

Arya tried to ignore the irony of the recurring theme of life-changing letters that tended to involve Baratheons, as she tried to adjust her eyes in the darkened study, trying to see with what little moonlight filtered through the open window that she’d come through. She needed to find something,  _ anything _ , that would stop the possible engagement to a man she’d never even met. All she’d known about him was what she heard from other debutantes in the  _ ton _ , that he was “devastatingly handsome” with his black hair and beautiful blue eyes. Of course,  _ they  _ hadn’t actually seen him, since he hadn’t attended any sort of society event since becoming the new Duke. Though, one had mentioned that her mother saw him in town and she only assumed he was the Duke because he had black hair and blue eyes and was dressed in fine clothing, but Arya had rolled her eyes at that.  _ Anyone _ could wear fine clothes and also have those traits, they weren’t solely synonymous to the Baratheons. 

Either way, it didn’t matter to Arya, since she had no desire to marry anyone who’d take her freedom away and force her to be anyone but herself. And a rich Duke would want a kind, proper, and pretty wife-- not one who wore breeches, rode astride  _ even  _ in public, cursed, spoke her mind, and was plain according to the awful girls of the  _ ton _ . No, Arya Stark was not fit to be  _ anyone’s  _ Duchess, let alone the Duke of Storm’s End’s Duchess. So she lifted a hand up to her hair and pulled a pin out, looking for some sort of lock she could pick-- a lock possibly holding incriminating secrets.

She went around the desk and smirked when she saw one of the drawers locked. She knelt down and inserted her hair pin into the lock, trying to keep her movements quiet as she picked the lock. Once she heard the lock click, she grinned in triumph and pulled open the drawer, only to find it empty. Her grinned turned into a frustrated frown and she slammed the drawer closed. She winced at the sound, hoping no one would hear and burst in on her. 

***

Gendry Waters-- or, as he was now called, Gendry Baratheon--  _ really _ did not like being a Duke. He hated trying to navigate through his new life full of liars and backstabbers and fortune hunters-- otherwise known as the men and women of the aristocracy trying to pawn their daughters off on him all because he was now a rich duke. He felt as if he would never really settle into the role he’d had for going on a year now.

It had taken him awhile to learn how to act like a Duke, but he was getting there, his Uncle Renly had told him. Renly and Stannis, his father’s brothers and his uncles had been teaching him how to act like an aristocrat-- like one of the  _ ton _ . And while he had minor slip ups, he’d been deemed ready to enter polite society by his uncles. Of course, he hadn’t officially done so yet. 

No, he was not ready to deal with, as Uncle Renly put it, the  _ ton’s  _ “matchmaking mamas and their husband hunting daughters.” He just wanted to stay as a recluse for as long as possible-- though it wouldn’t be for much longer since his other uncle, Stannis, was urging him to do so now and begin his search for a wife, because if not then people might ask more questions than they already had and they might go and start snooping where they weren’t wanted, and none of them wanted that. His uncle told him that he should find a wife who could help him run his entire estate and the expansive lands that had belonged to the Baratheons for centuries. Gendry was still learning how to run everything, and the little schooling he got growing up didn’t help. Of course, his uncles had helped hire him discreet tutors who could help him learn more about all that he needed to know, but he would need years before he had some semblance of the knowledge a good and proper Lord should have. That’s why he was to find a wife. 

Which brought him back to the letter he’d found of his father’s addressed to Lord Eddard Stark, who lived on the lands adjacent to his own, a week ago. Gendry knew it was rude to pry, but he couldn’t help himself as he’d grabbed the letter-opener off his desk and slit it open. His eyes had scanned quickly over the contents, eyes catching on the word “marriage”-- he then went and read the letter in full. Once finished, Gendry frowned down at the words staring up at him. Even at his end, after how badly things went, Robert still wanted to unite the Baratheons and the Starks through marriage, as if that could somehow erase the past with the loss of his own Stark love.

Gendry knew that he could just destroy the letter and pretend it never existed-- there would be no marriage attempt with a Stark daughter-- but he also knew that destroying it would be wrong. Ned Stark deserved to, at least, read the letter. Especially as it was his friend’s last words to him. From the few times he’d met him, Gendry knew Ned to be a sensible man, so he may not even follow through with such a request, especially since the last attempt at a Baratheon-Stark union did not go over so well. But, if he did, then Gendry would as well, since it would save him from having to deal with the chaos of the marriage mart. And if Ned’s daughter did not want it, then, of course, he’d put a stop to it before it began. Ned’s eldest daughter, Sansa Stark, got married almost a year ago to the reclusive Scottish Laird, Sandor Clegane, so the only one left was Arya Stark, the daughter he’d heard more stories about. She was the one with the fiery spirit and a sensible mind, from what Sir Davos had told him. She was the opposite of what the  _ ton _ liked. She was the one the  _ ton _ deemed unsuitable-- so she’d make the perfect wife, if she was amenable, of course. 

Gendry let his mind turn back to the present, where he was trying to navigate his way through the secret passages of the Baratheon Manor. He’d only just discovered them earlier in the day as he quite literally stumbled upon the one in his bedroom-- he’d been getting out of bed, when he tripped over his discarded clothes that he’d been too tired to place elsewhere and slammed into the wall-- which was actually a hidden door that fell open into a small, dark and musty smelling corridor. A small dark corridor that he didn’t know existed. He wanted to immediately set about exploring it, but he had prior engagements that he had to attend too (and he was rather hungry), so he closed the secret door and vowed to look into it later--which is where he was now-- lantern in one hand has he made his way down a narrow set of stairs at the end of the corridor. 

Once at the bottom, he made a left turn, taking it all the way down, passing many different doors and at the very end, he saw yet another narrow staircase leading down-- which meant that there must have been tunnels leading out and away from the manor. He was about to make his way down the stairs when he heard noises coming from behind the door on his right-- which, in the middle of the night and on that side of the house, no one should be in. So Gendry blew out the candle in the lantern and quietly set it down on the ground, before pushing open the door, and wincing as it creaked open.

He’d wound up in his study, behind his desk and staring down at the now frozen figure rummaging through his desk drawers. He squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look at the culprit-- it looked to be a young boy, but Gendry didn’t have too much time to deliberate on it as the person shot up and climbed over his desk, knocking things over and made to go to the open window that he must have come through. He would have made it out, if Gendry hadn’t spurred into action and made his way around the desk in a few quick, long strides and grabbed the culprit from behind in a strong vice. The boy struggled against him, but Gendry did not let go. “Calm down, boy. I don’t want to hurt y-” before he could finish his sentence, the boy slammed his foot down on Gendry’s, causing him to groan in pain, but he did not loosen his grip, in fact, he tightened it. “Like I was saying,” he ground out. “I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to know who you are and what you were looking for.” Instead of getting an answer, the boy struggled even harder against his grip and tried to stomp on his foot again, but this time, Gendry moved his foot out of the way. 

The boy’s erratic movements seemed to calm down. “ _ Let me go, please. _ ”

Gendry blinked in shock at the  _ unmistakable  _ voice of a woman. He immediately loosened his grip, letting her go, but as he did so, the woman slammed her foot down on his even harder than before and he bit back a shout of pain, determined not to let her get away. He quickly limped over to the window, where she was already halfway out and pulled her back in, trying not to be rough. He set the girl down, spun her around, and knocked off the cap that she’d been using to help disguise her features. He bit back a gasp as he finally saw her face in the moonlight. Her steely gaze, full of fire meeting his, anger and determination etching her features.  _ Beautiful _ , he thought, but didn’t say. Instead, he said, “Now, I ask you again-- who are you and what were you looking for?”

The girl glared at him, not saying anything.

He let out a sigh. “Fine, if you intend to be stubborn, will you, at least, sit? I truly don’t intend to harm you.” 

She snorted a laugh and crossed her arms over her chest. “You couldn’t even if you wanted to.”

He cocked an eyebrow at that, biting back a humored smile. He  _ liked  _ her. “You know, I don’t doubt it.” He gestured to the chair in front of his desk. “Would you please take a seat.” 

She glanced over his shoulder at the desk where she’d been rummaging through only moments ago and made a silent decision. She squared her shoulders and stepped around him, making her way to the other side of  _ his  _ desk and planted herself in  _ his  _ chair. 

At that, he laughed. Oh, he  _ definitely _ liked her. He made his way to the seat across from her and pulled a box of matches out of his coat pocket and lit one, lighting the candle on his desk, allowing him to see better-- to see  _ her _ better. There was something about her that was familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “Alright then, who are you?” 

She shrugged. “I’m just a girl who happened by this grand old house and noticed the window open-- I came inside to escape the cold.” The girl kept her face free of emotion, save for the unmistakable twitching of her lips that indicated she was holding back a laugh.

Gendry studied her, taking note of the sweat beading on her forehead and her heavy breathing. She’d exerted herself quite a bit trying to get away, she was clearly overheated. He admired her ability to keep such a straight face. His admiration was all that kept him from bursting into laughter at the obvious lie. “Do you often feel cold after such rousing.. exercise?” This time, Gendry caught the glimmer of a smirk on her face as she nodded. 

“Yes, all the time.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and then pushed himself up from his seat. “Perhaps we should start a fire.”

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she schooled her features. “Yes, that would be a wonderful idea.” For added effect, she shivered and crossed her arms over her chest to indicate she was cold. 

Gendry bit back a chuckle at her actions and made his way over to the fireplace across the room. He quickly set about lighting it and soon, the fire cast a warm flickering glow throughout the room, causing the shadows to dance and his little thief to be better illuminated. He sat down in one of the arm chairs near the fire and gestured to the one across from him. “Come. Warm up by the fire. We wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”

He watched as she slowly got up and eyed the window again, as if gauging how fast she could be this time. Gendry let out a huff of a laugh at that. “You know, I really wouldn’t try it again. Third time will not be the charm for you.”

His thief scowled at him, giving one last longing glance to her escape route before grudgingly making her way over to the chair he’d gestured to.

He studied her curiously as the flames danced and brightened the room and leaned back into his arm chair, waiting as the room warmed up. Gendry was used to the warmth, he welcomed it. After all, he’d spent most of his life in a smithy, he’d grown accustomed to warm temperatures. Of course, the warmth from the fire hardly compared to that, so it would take quite a bit more heat to even come close to matching the temperatures he’d worked in. 

They sat in silence for several minutes, Gendry never taking his eyes from her as he watched her grow gradually more uncomfortable in the heat of the room. He just sat and waited for her to relent, to give up the charade and just tell him the truth, but he was starting to realize she was too stubborn for that, whoever she was. At that thought, he cocks his head a bit. “ _ Who are you? _ ” he asks again, more sternly than before, glad to be away from her stomping feet this time.

“None of your business,” she replied, stubbornly. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? I found  _ you _ digging through  _ my _ desk, in  _ my _ office, in  _ my _ house in the middle of the night. I think it is most definitely  _ my _ business, thief.”

“I’m not a-”

“Not a what?” Gendry cut in. “A thief? I disagree. While I doubt you will admit the lie of you escaping the cold, I can see you’re sweating and that as each minute goes by, you get more irritated by the heat, so you might as well just shrug out of that jacket, darling, because I’m not dousing the fire. I prefer to see criminals clearly so that I can give their description to the local authorities, should need be.” He let out a breath. “So, either you tell me your name or you tell me what you were searching for.”

She seemed shocked at his outburst, but she said nothing and instead crossed her arms over her chest, stubbornly.

Gendry sighed. “Would you like the authorities to get involved, then? Because I can have them summoned immediately.”

She rolled her eyes, but said. “Arry. Call me Arry.” 

“Arry?” He hummed. “That’s a nice name. Is it your real name?”

She gave him a pointed look. “Call me Arry or call me no one, that’s all you’re getting from me,  _ your grace. _ ”

His eyes widened a bit at that. “You know who I am, then?”

She seemed panicked at that, but quickly recovered. “Of course, I do. Is there anyone in the area who doesn’t know of the reclusive Duke of Storm’s End? No one’s really seen your face, but you’ve done everything short of telling me who you are. It was easy to put the pieces together.” 

He acquiesced at that, but still didn’t quite believe her. There was something she wasn’t telling him, but he could see that he wouldn’t be finding anything out tonight. He may not know her, but he could tell she was stubborn, maybe even just as stubborn as he was. There was no way he was going to get anymore information out of her, and he knew he had to let her go eventually, he wasn’t going to force her to stay. So after a few more moments of silence, filled with her scowling, he decided to save them both the trouble of a sleepless night. “Alright,  _ Arry _ . I’ll let you go for now. But if I find you here again, I will have the authorities brought here.” 

Gendry could see the barely contained grin on her face as she shot up out of her chair, but instead of rushing to the window like she had before, she kept her eyes on him, studying him for a long moment. Her gaze was piercing and it made him squirm in his seat. She tilted her head, her grin tamped down to a smirk. “Might I make an observation,  _ your grace _ ?” 

He huffed a laugh, waving his hands out. “By all means, go right ahead. As I’m sure you’d do it anyway, even if I did mind.” 

Her expression remained unchanged despite his quip. “I don’t think you would.”

Gendry furrowed his brow in confusion, folding his arms over his chest. “You don’t think I would what?”

She leveled her gaze with his, unmoving in her stance above him. “I don’t think you’d bring the authorities here even if I did return.” 

He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? And why is that?

Her grin returned, but this time is was mischievous. “Because you’re having too much fun.” 

He blinked in surprise at her words, but fought back the smile that was pulling at his lips. “And you know that, do you?”

She nodded, humming. “Mhmm. I do. You’re part of the  _ ton _ . They’re suffocating and insufferable and you may be rich, but you’re new to all this. You can’t afford to be the rake, running about town, drinking and gambling and seducing women. You can’t afford to have  _ fun _ , not with your newfound reputation at stake. The ton are a tough lot to crack and for someone raised a lowborn, they wouldn’t take to a newcomer causing any scandals left and right. And even the smallest things you do could cause a scandal under their incessantly watchful eyes,” anger seemed to seep into her voice with those words, but she let out a breath, calming. “I may not know you, but I’m quite sure this is possibly the most exciting thing to happen to you since you were thrust into your new position. So, yes, I  _ do  _ know that,  _ your grace _ .” With that said, she turned on her heel and began making her way to the window with a skip in her step.

He was shocked at her words and how right she was, but also at how bitter she sounded, as if she knew what it felt like. Though, he didn’t ponder that all too much as he was too focused on how she called him ‘your grace’ yet again. He was  _ really _ coming to dislike the way she called him that. “Gendry,” he said simply. 

That seemed to throw her off, her steps faltering. “Sorry?” she said, casting a confused glance over her shoulder.

He pushed himself up out of his chair, his gaze locked with hers. “My name. It’s Gendry.”

“And why are you telling me, a-- as you’ve deemed to call me-- thief, this?” She asked, eyebrow raised.

He shrugged. “I figured since I know your.. name, then I should tell you mine. Especially considering that you seem to think you know so much about me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright then,  _ your grace _ . I’ll be sure to remember that. Though, I doubt I’ll need to.” She turned back around and made it the rest of the way to the window when his words stopped her once more.

“Might  _ I _ make an observation,  _ thief _ ?” He said, smirk pulling at his lips.

She let out a huff of annoyance and turned back to face him, shrugging her shoulders. “Sure, why not?”

“I don’t think you found what you were looking for.”

She rolled her eyes, tensing up. “I  _ told _ you I was only here because I was-”

Gendry scoffed. “Oh,  _ please _ , save it for someone who believes you.”

She scowled at him. 

Out of all the expressions she aimed at him that evening, that was the one he’d seen the most.

“I don’t have to listen to you,” she said, turning around. “I’m  _ leaving _ .” And she did. She climbed out the window and hopped down to the moonlit ground and began making her way towards the treeline.

Though, when she’d only taken a few steps, Gendry had made his way to the window. “Till we meet again, thief.” He called out, a smile pulling at his lips. 

She paused once more, casting a final glance over her shoulder, and if Gendry wasn’t mistaken, there was a smile on her face, as well. “Don’t count on it,  _ your grace _ .” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya goes into town the next day. Nearly runs into Gendry. Somehow winds up in a dressmaker's shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long to post chapter 2!! i've been in the process of moving and haven't had all that much time, but i INTENDED for this to get posted by 2 am bc of a deal i made to thestarkbitch but i fell asleep working on it. she's been my hype man for this fic and i love her. so this chapter is for her!!<3
> 
> also real quick: this has been roughly edited by me so i apologize for any mistakes i might have missed

_ “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” _ Arya had muttered to herself the previous night as she’d made her way home and it was what she kept thinking to herself from the time she woke up after a restless night’s sleep to now, as she made her way into town, her lady’s maid, Ros, with her. She  _ liked _ him. The duke. Gendry. Whatever. She  _ hated _ that she liked him. He was annoying and insufferable and unlike anyone she’d ever met. And she should’ve just left his study right when she had the chance. Not stopped and made a stupid, bloody obersvation about the man. An observation that was quite true in regards to herself, though she’d never admit that. She should’ve just turned her back on the man and left in silence. But, no, she could not help herself. As always. She wanted to rile him up, throw him off, something that could allow her to gain the upper hand on the infuriating man since he’d gained the upper hand on her already. But no, it didn’t work out exactly the way she’d wanted it to. Yes, she shocked him with her words, but in the end, he’d turned the tables on her again. 

His words rang through her head as she continued on her way into town to see her friend, Mycah.  _ “You didn’t find what you were looking for.” _ He was right. She hadn’t. She’d rummaged through his desk, picked a damned lock, and still came up with nothing. It was true that the man  _ may not _ have something to hide, but Arya had a feeling that he did. Why else had he been reclusive, hidden away from the public eye for the past year? There  _ had  _ to be a reason for it. And whatever that reason was, she was  _ determined  _ to find out. And because of that, his other words rang through her head, as well.  _ “Till we meet again, thief.” _ An obvious extension of  _ his _ observation. She couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips again at his words. At least the man wasn’t stupid. He knew she’d try again. Which was true. She would. But it was going to be more cautiously. She’d have to figure something out. Plan something better. Something that he’d be none the wiser for. 

Arya would’ve continued thinking about the previous night-- about the duke-- had it not been for Ros at her side, interrupting her thoughts. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened last night?”

Ros, of course, had been let in on the plan. Arya needed someone to cover for her if she were to be discovered, and so she had to tell Ros what she was planning to do. Her lady’s maid eagerly agreed. Arya’s surprise to her agreement must have shown clear on her face, because Ros just said to her, gesturing down to her clothes, “I had a life before this, you know.” Arya said nothing, but had questions for her that she intended to ask soon.

“Did he catch you?” Ros continued, though Arya stayed silent, studiously avoiding the question as she picked up her pace to keep ahead of the lady’s maid. Which, wasn’t the easiest task considering she was several inches shorter than her. 

Ros placed a hand on her arm, forcing her to stop. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? I’ll kill him.”

Arya blinked in surprise at the worry and anger etched on Ros’ features. She had not expected that from her. She quickly shook her head. “ _ No _ .” She said firmly. “No. He didn’t. The only thing he did was irritate me.”

Ros dropped her hand from her arm and nodded, relieved. “Good. But, if he does hurt you, let me know and I’ll make sure that never happens again.”

Arya smiled at her. “Thank you, but you can be sure that if he hurts me, I will make sure of that, too. Though, in case it gets messy, at least I know who to go to for help.”

Ros smiled back at her and they continued their walk in silence, though that only lasted for a few minutes before she piped up again. “So.. was he handsome?”

Arya was caught off guard by the question and nearly tripped over her own feet, blushing. He was. And that’s how she might have begrudgingly answered, if the circumstances of their meeting had been something else entirely. But it wasn’t. So she didn’t. “I wouldn’t know. It was dark.”

Ros grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” 

Arya schooled her features, willing the blush to go away. “You may take it however you wish, but I truly would not know.”

Ros’ grin widened. “Maybe you should abandon your life as a lady and become an actress. You’d make a good one.”

Arya rolled her eyes, biting back the smile pulling at her lips. “Don’t tempt me.” 

They continued the rest of the way into town in uninterrupted silence and once they arrived, she quickened her pace yet again towards Mycah’s shop. She’d not told him about her plan, only that she was going to do something that might be considered stupid. He’d immediately been worried, but Arya calmed him and told him she’d be by the next day to let him know how it went. With her finally at the shop front, she peeked through the window, seeing him helping a customer. At least there was only one, she mused. Usually there were quite a few. Mycah’s baked goods were in high demand. (Which, maybe that was why she was also here. He made chocolate croissants that were positively sinful.)

She opened the door and stepped in, Ros only a few steps behind her. Normally, the sound of a little bell would’ve signaled their entrance, but just last week the bell broke and Mycah had yet to get it replaced, so only the sound of the door closing signaled that there were customers. 

Arya paid no mind to the customer in front of her-- a tall man with his back turned to her, a lord by the looks of his clothes-- and quietly waited for him to leave, hardly paying attention to what was being said. That was, of course, until she recognized the man’ voice. She froze in place. Oh, God. It was  _ him _ . Gendry Baratheon. The duke. Her eyes widened in panic and she forced herself not to make a noise as she quickly grabbed Ros’ arm and pulled her in front of her. Ros glared at her, but Arya only sent her a quick apologetic look before ducking behind her. Never had she been so grateful for being short. 

Arya peeked out from behind her, eyes catching Mycah’s whose gaze kept straying to her and Ros, his brow furrowed in confusion. Arya shook her head furiously at him, which caused him to be more confused. Arya just pointed to the duke and then pressed a finger over her lips to keep him silent. Whatever Gendry had been saying to the man halted as he began to turn around, but before he could see her, she ducked back into place behind Ros and held her breath, hoping he didn’t see anything. 

Everything was quiet for a moment, and Arya’s panic started building, but before anything could happen, Ros’ voice spoke up. “Is there something I can help you with, sir?” 

There was a beat of silence before he quietly responded. “No, sorry. I apologize for staring.”

“It’s quite alright,” she responded, her stance as still as a statue. 

He must have turned back around, because Ros’ shoulders relaxed and Gendry resumed his conversation with Mycah. Arya glanced over her shoulder at the door, which was only a few feet away. She considered making a go for it, quietly of course, but before she could, she caught the strands of the duke’s conversation with Mycah. “... know of or heard anything about a girl named Arry?”

She sucked in a breath and quickly clamped her hand over her mouth. NO. Arya wouldn’t risk peeking out from behind Ros again so she just tapped her shoulder till she saw her shake her head for Mycah to see and he must have caught on because he responded /no/ to the man. 

She kept her hand over her mouth as she quietly tiptoed towards the door grateful for Mycah keeping the man’s attention on him instead of where she didn’t want it. Once at the door she gently pushed it open and slipped out, helping it to close quietly, except right at the last moment, a gust of wind came from nowhere and the door closed shut the rest of the way itself, causing a loud bang.

Arya didn’t even take her time to look behind her as she started running down the sidewalk. “No, no no no no no,” she muttered under her breath, hoping he wouldn’t follow, but of course, with her luck, that was not the case, because as she was a few shops down, she heard the door slam open, and heard Gendry’s voice shout out. At that, she picked up her pace, running faster down the sidewalk, hoping to make it around the corner before he caught up with her. As she was almost there, a group of people stepped out of another store, Arya recognized them and she would’ve stopped to greet them, had it not been for her current situation, so she sent them a quick apologetic look, muttering a quiet, “Sorry,” as she pushed them aside and finally made it around the corner, ducking into the first shop she saw. Which turned out to be a dressmaker’s shop, judging by the bolts of fabric she saw. Arya didn’t have time to think too much about that, though, as she quickly looked around, eyes landing on a woman who looked vaguely familiar and who must have been the owner. “Hide me and I’ll buy five dresses.”

The woman cocked her head and didn’t even bat an eyelash before saying, “Ten,” with a barely imperceptible French accent.

“Fine,” was all Arya said in response. She was annoyed, of course, but she was in desperate need of hiding. 

The woman grinned triumphantly and pointed to an entryway nearly obscured by curtains. “Just through there, my lady.”

Arya nodded and made her way over, ducking behind it just in time as she heard the door open to the shop. She held her breath yet again. 

“May I help you, sir?”

Arya cautioned a glance from the tiny crack that was left between the thick curtains, she saw him glancing around the shop. “Did a young woman just come in here?”

“Sorry, no.” The woman replied. “My other seamstress has been out sick this week and my last customer left over an hour ago.” 

Gendry narrowed his eyes at the woman, as if not quite believing her, but there wasn’t much he could do unless he demanded to look through her shop, and he could, Arya knew, but she also knew that he wasn’t going to. She couldn’t say exactly how she knew, but just from her encounter with him, she could tell he wasn’t one of those lords who abused their power, and she was grateful for that. And maybe that was why a part of her liked him. 

After several moments, he pulled his eyes away from the woman and continued looking around the shop. His gaze caught on a bolt of light green satin, which she had to say was quite pretty, and it seemed as if Gendry agreed when he said, “That’s a lovely color.”

The woman cocked her head a bit, like a bird when spotting a prey. The way she did when she negotiated for more dresses, in true businesswoman fashion. “Thank you. Would you like the whole bolt or would you like something made from it? If not for you, then for a lady friend, perhaps?” She said suggestively.

Gendry’s cheeks reddened at that, but he just shook his head. “No, thank you.” He shifted and stuck a hand in his pocket, fishing for something and pulled out a handful of coins, setting them on the counter next to him. “I apologize for the intrusion, Madame..?”

“It’s really Lady Smallwood, but here in this shop, it’s Madame Swann,” she supplied.

“Right, uh.. Madame Swann.” He glanced at the exit. “If you’ll excuse me.” And moments later, he was out the door. 

Once he was out of sight, Madame Swann-- Lady Smallwood, as Arya now recognized her-- made her way to the window and after a minute, she finally said, “Would you care to tell me why you were hiding from that nice young man?”

Arya stepped out from her hiding place and crossed her arms over her chest. “No.” 

“Then I assume you’d rather me take your measurements,” Lady Smallwood said as she went behind the counter to gather the coins Gendry left there and placed them somewhere beneath it.

Arya just watched her, muttering, “Not really.”

Lady Smallwood only chuckled at her words as she made her way over to Arya, pointing to an area hidden behind a large dressing divider. “I need you to strip your outerwear off.”

Arya made her way over to the secluded area and unbuttoned her spencer, shrugging it off, then wordlessly, Lady Smallwood stepped in and helped unbutton the back of her dress and helped her step out of it and all she was left in was her chemise and undergarments. And all Arya wanted to do was desperately cover herself. 

“Be still,” Lady Smallwood commanded quietly as she got her measuring tape out.

Arya stopped her fidgeting and stood still as she began taking her measurements. It wasn’t too long a process, but for Arya it felt like it was. She always disliked having her measurements taken for dresses that she’d been told many times by girls she didn’t like never suited her. One comment always stuck out from the others.  _ Putting a dress on a pig won’t make it look pretty. _ That comment was met with a punch to the girl’s face, but it still stung. Maybe they never thought she looked pretty or beautiful, but Arya thought she looked alright, even in a dress. Sometimes she wished that she could wear men’s clothes more often, but she didn’t hate dresses. She always found them, or at least, most of them, to be beautiful. And though Arya always tended to wear plain looking dresses to avoid unsolicited comments by anyone who were rude enough to say them (and to avoid herself getting riled up enough to cause another scandal with her fist so she didn’t have to hear it from her mother), she did yearn for the other kind, the ones that stopped a room when you walked in. Though, Arya always kept that to herself. She was content with the dresses she had.

Once Lady Smallwood finished, she set the measuring tape aside and circled Arya like a hawk, eyes narrowed, studying her. It made Arya feel uncomfortable. “What are you doing?” She asked, nervously.

“I’m imagining what type of dresses to make for you.”

“Oh. Well, I could always send some of mine over for you to-”

Lady Smallwood held a hand up to silence her. “I’ve seen some of your dresses before, my lady, and I do not intend to copy. Those dresses were fine enough, you looked lovely in them, but I have in mind something different. Is there anything in particular you want?”

Arya thought for a long moment. She could always insist on something similar to what she was used to. But a part of her deep down, the part that yearned, told her not to. So, all she said was, “Surprise me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, when figuring out the plot: i need someone to be the dressmaker but i have no idea who to use. should i make an oc?  
> me, five seconds later remembering the acorn dress: WAIT A FUCKING SECOND


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all i gotta say is im sorry for posting this chapter so late. thanks for reading tho. i love y'all<3

Once Lady Smallwood had finished taking Arya’s measurements and helped her back into her dress, she heard the door to the shop open once more and Arya froze in her place, eyes darting to Lady Smallwood who held a finger to her lips to silence her. Arya _hoped_ it wasn’t the duke again and was thankful that she was still out of sight. 

She relaxed, however, once she heard Ros’ tentative voice ring out. “Arya?” 

Lady Smallwood cocked an eyebrow at Arya and all she said was, “My lady’s maid,” before quickly grabbing her spencer and popping her head out from behind the divider. “Right here!”

The worried look on the redhead’s face melted away once she laid eyes on her. “Oh, thank God,” she breathed. “He didn’t find you then, I take it?” 

“Almost, but no.” Arya replied, stepping out from behind the divider and shrugging her spencer back on and buttoning it up. “I ducked in here to hide. It cost me ten dresses,” she said with a pointed look at Lady Smallwood, who looked the picture of innocence, save for the slight smirk on her lips. 

Ros grinned. “Well that’s one way to get you into new dresses.” 

Lady Smallwood finally stepped out from behind the divider to join Arya and Ros’ expression faltered, going from lighthearted to quizzical upon seeing the dressmaker. Arya wondered what that was about, but she didn’t say anything as Ros quickly shook her head, smile back on her lips. “Her mother shall be over the moon.” 

“ _My mother_ ,” Arya cut in as she rolled her eyes, “will not find out about this until they’re complete. I want at least a few more moments of peace until then.” 

Ros shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, glancing around the shop. She slowly began moving around the shop, admiring the bolts of fabric. She stopped once she gently grazed her fingers over a red one, eyes meeting Arya’s. “I do hope you have one made from this material. It’d look striking on you, to be sure.” 

Arya sighed but eyed the material. It _was_ beautiful. “Maybe, but it’s really up to Lady Smallwood-”

“Madame Swann,” the dressmaker corrected and Ros looked up quickly, gaze darting to her, eyes wide.

Arya furrowed her brow at Ros’ surprised look, but didn’t comment on it. “Sorry, _Madame Swann_ ,” she emphasized. “I told her to just surprise me with whatever she wants.” 

“You’re _Madame Swann_ ? _The_ Madame Swann?” Ros asked, surprise clear in her voice.

The dressmaker looked at the lady’s maid, head cocked slightly, a smile on her lips. “Ah, someone who’s heard of my work.”

She grinned once again. “I _knew_ I recognized you. And oh, no. Not just heard. _Worn_ . Back when I was-” Ros stopped herself and shook her head. “Well, it doesn’t matter now, I suppose. It was a long time ago and you probably wouldn’t remember me anyway. But.. you made the most gorgeous gowns in London. You were _magnificent_ ,” she said with a blush, looking away. “I’m sure you still are. But what happened, if I may ask? How did you wind up in Westfeld?”

Lady Smallwood’s smile was pained. “It’s a long story that amounts to a Lady-- with quite a bit of influence back then-- didn’t like my gowns so she spread lies about me and turned some of my best customers away. Of course, I still had the loyal ones who stayed, but that wasn’t enough to keep my shop from closing. And the rest.. well, it’s a rather long story that I don’t want to get into at the moment.”

Ros nodded, looking away. “I understand, my apologies.”

Lady Smallwood looked at the lady’s maid for a long moment, before saying. “Maybe later, though.”

Ros looked up in surprise, a smile pulling at her lips, but she didn’t say anything more. 

Arya only observed their interaction quietly, wondering of both the women’s past, but not asking, not breaking up the moment. She cast her eyes away from them towards the window, hoping that when they left, the duke would be long gone, with no chance of running into him. Again. She didn’t think she could handle the stress. 

After several moments of silence, Arya finally spoke up, directing her gaze to the lady’s maid. “Did the duke say anything to you at Mycah’s shop?”

Ros shook her head, tearing her gaze away from the dressmaker. “No, he didn’t. Everything had been going smoothly up until the door slammed shut and he whirled around to look. He saw you fleeing and it only took a second or two before he dashed out of there with quick apologies to Mycah. He did pause only for a short moment to send me a look, but he ran off without saying anything, so I think it’s probably best if I steer clear of him as well. I would never give you up, of course, but I’d rather not be cornered by the man, at least, not if it involved being questioned,” she said, wagging her eyebrows and grinning.

Lady Smallwood chuckled at the comment and Arya rolled her eyes, though she felt something in the pit of her stomach at the words. She didn’t want to dwell on what that was. “Then we both shall do our best to steer clear of him.” 

*** 

After several more minutes of talking, Arya and Ros finally left Lady Smallwood’s. They made a few inquiries about the duke, seeing if he was still in town. But they found out that he’d already left in his carriage, so they finally began to make their way towards home, though not before thanking the ones he’d ended up questioning for not giving her up and also stopping by Mycah’s to bid him goodbye with a promise to eventually tell him what was going on. 

The walk home was filled with Arya finally telling Ros what happened the night before and Ros laughing through most of it. “Looks like you’ve finally met your match.” 

Arya had rolled her eyes at that. “I doubt that. He was just stronger than me. But next time, I’ll be quicker.”

Ros stopped walking, looking at her, surprised. “Sorry, did you just say ‘next time’?”

Arya met her gaze and nodded. “Yes. I did.” 

The redhead let out a sigh, looking to the sky. “And when will this ‘next time’ be?”

She just shrugged. “I don’t know, but I’ll let you know when I do. I’ll probably need you to cover for me again.”

“Maybe you need me to go with you next time. Two heads are better than one, you know.” 

Arya shook her head. “No, it’s easier sneaking about when I’m by myself. I don’t want to have to worry about you getting caught, too.” 

This time Ros rolled her eyes. “What, you think I’ve never had to sneak around before? I’ll have you know that I’ve done it before and frankly, I’m rather good at it.”

Arya eyed her suspiciously. “What exactly required you to sneak around?”

Ros just looked away, shrugging. “Doesn’t matter. It was in the past.” 

Again, Arya had questions for her lady’s maid, but she wasn’t going to push. Instead she just sighed. “Alright, well, if I _do_ decide that two heads are better than one when it comes to the duke, I’ll let you know.” 

Ros seemed to accept that and they continued the rest of their walk home in blessed silence. 

***

That blessed silence came to a staggering halt when Arya arrived home. She’d been planning on heading up to her room and taking a nap as she was dreadfully tired from the lack of sleep she’d gotten the night before, yearning to crawl into her bed and let the events of the past 12 hours slip away from her mind, if only for a little while. But as soon as she and Ros had crossed the threshold, the Stark family butler, Stevens, informed them that her father was in his study talking to, none other than, Lord Gendry Baratheon. Arya had to resist the urge to curse the blasted duke out loud. The stupid man seemed to be everywhere she turned. “Can I not have one moment of peace?” she muttered to herself.

Stevens stared at her oddly. “I beg your pardon, Lady Arya?”

Next to her, Ros seemed to be holding in a laugh. Arya looked sharply at her. “This isn’t funny.”

Ros didn’t look at her immediately, taking deep breaths in through her nose. When she finally seemed as if she wasn’t about to burst with laughter, she turned her gaze to Arya, mirthful. “Oh, it _absolutely_ is.” 

Arya rolled her eyes and turned back to Stevens, placing an angelic smile on her lips. One that she always prefaced with a request she knew Stevens wouldn’t like. 

Stevens already knew something was coming, eyes narrowed in her direction.

“Stevens, if my father asks if I’ve returned, could you let him know that I have, _but_ that I retired to my room for the day because I’m feeling ill?”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed even more, but finally let out a sigh, resigned. “Alright, but it better be for a good reason. I don’t like lying to His Grace.” 

She grinned at the butler, relieved. “Oh, it is for the _best_ of reasons.”

Ros snorted as Stevens started to walk away. “Well, I wouldn’t say the _best_ -”

Arya cut her words off with an elbow to the side. “ _Keep your voice down_ ,” she hissed.

Ros rolled her eyes. “Where do you intend to hide, then?”

“The library,” she said simply. 

Ros stared at her in disbelief. “The library? The library that’s _right next_ to your father’s study?”

“Yes. The library that’s _right next_ to my father’s study,” she repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “We have only the one.” 

“Okay, but why the library? That doesn’t sound like a very good idea to me.” 

Arya sighed. “Because I may or may not have carved a peephole into the wall that he shares with his study when I was 8 just so I could overhear conversations that my father would never actually let me listen in on.” She’d spent three days doing so, as all she’d had at the time was a dull knife that she’d lifted during afternoon tea with her governess, Miss Mordane. 

Ros blinked in surprise at the words, but soon, a grin spread on her face. “Well then, what are we waiting for?”

Arya grinned back at her and then turned on her heel, leading the way to the library, tiptoeing quietly past her father’s study, straining to hear something. Though even she knew that she wouldn’t manage to capture a word being said because of the thick and heavy door. It was why she carved a hole in the wall to begin with. Not even a glass against the door helped in her need to eavesdrop. 

Once she pushed the door open to the library, her feet came to a halt as she caught sight of her brother, Rickon, reclining in the window seat, book in hand. Her sudden stop caused Ros to crash into her. She stumbled forward a few steps, cursing under her breath. 

“Sorry!” Ros said before Arya could do anything, the apology almost masked the snicker that came from her brother. Almost. 

She let out a sigh, shooting a glare at her brother. “What are you doing in here?”

Rickon hadn’t even bothered to push himself up from his position. “I’m reading.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Yes, I can see that, but why? Don’t you have to work on your schooling. There was quite a bit sent home with you, wasn’t there?” Her brother had just started his second year at Eton when he’d been sent home for getting into a fight and had he not been the son of a Duke then he might have been suspended, but instead their father had pulled a few strings and had him sent home, but only with the work for the rest of the semester. Things were rather tense between Rickon and her parents because of the whole incident, but Arya suspected that there was more to the story than Rickon let on, but of course, he wouldn’t tell her that. Though, of course, that didn’t stop her from trying to ask. 

It was Rickon’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yes, but shockingly enough, I finished it for the day.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That still doesn’t tell me why you’re in the library, you don’t like reading.”

He shrugged, setting the book aside. “Maybe I’ve gained a liking for it.”

She let out a laugh. “I doubt it.”

He pushed himself up, swinging his legs over to hop off the window seat. “What’s it matter to you anyway, huh?” He asked, staring at her suspiciously. “You don’t tend to spend much time in the library, why are you here now, hm?”

She shrugged her shoulders, nonchalantly. “Because I feel like it.”

“Do you need a chaperone in the library, as well? Is she to stop you from reading inappropriate books?” He asked, humorously, before shooting a glance over to Ros. “No offense.”

Ros just laughed. Arya didn’t. She didn’t really have a good enough reason for Ros being there with her, so with a sigh, she said, turning to her lady’s maid. “I only wanted to let you know that I had some, er, dresses that I planned to get rid of and I was hoping you would inquire with some of our female staff who are of a similar height to me if they wanted to take their pick.” 

A smile pulled at Ros’ lips, but Arya could tell she was annoyed. She gave a curt nod. “Of course, my lady.” And with that, she turned and left the library. 

“Well,” Rickon’s voice rang out, “I don’t see any reason we can’t share the library.” He said the words like a challenge.

She narrowed her eyes yet again. He wasn’t going to leave and neither was she, so with one long, irritated look at her brother, she shrugged her shoulders and made her way over to the furthest corner of the library, the part where she _wanted_ to be, the part that was hidden from view. She grabbed the nearest book to her. _Miss Darrenworth and the Deranged Duke_. She rolled her eyes at the title, another reminder of the duke in the other room, though she doubted he was deranged. Arya let out a sigh as she opened it, not even bothering to actually read it. She only wanted to make it look like she was in case Rickon decided to make his way over to her. Arya wouldn’t put it past him, he was already suspicious of her motives, that was clear to her. He’d always been just as curious as her, so she wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to creep up on her.

She gave it a few minutes, but finally, she heard the sounds of him getting up. To her surprise, though, instead of going towards her, she heard the door to the library open and shut, his footsteps trailing away.

She waited a few seconds longer, before finally tossing the novel off to the side and scrambling up from her seat to pull it away from the wall, revealing the darkened peephole she’d drilled many years ago. She crawled behind the armchair and pressed her ear against the hole, only, she found that the sounds on the other side were muffled, she couldn’t hear a thing. She pulled away just enough to look at the hole, only to find it mostly stuff with some sort of dark material. She cursed out loud, banging her fist against the ground. “ _Damn it all!_ ”

“I thought lady’s weren’t supposed to curse,” her brother’s voice rang out from above, causing her to gasp and jump, banging her head against the side table. “Ow!” She cried out.

Her brother just laughed. “Watch your head.”

She glared up at him. He was sitting in her seat, arms folded along the top of it, his chin resting on his arms. “Where did you learn to creep up on me like that? You were never that good.”

“Eton,” he said simply. 

“Well, they sure are teaching you a plethora of skills, aren’t they?” She asked, sarcastically. 

He merely grinned at her. “It helps when you’ve broken curfew and don’t want to get caught.”

She let out a huff of laughter. “I’m sure it does.” Silence befell them for a moment before Arya said, “What are you doing back in the library, anyway?” 

He just shrugged. “I never left.” 

Her eyes widened in surprise. “What do you mean? I heard you shut the door and walk away, how-”

He grinned yet again, interrupting her. “Yes, you spent so much time focusing your attention on me that you didn’t even notice the other set of footsteps going down the hall. I made sure to make just enough noise for you to keep your attention on me supposedly leaving that you just assumed the footsteps leading away from the library door were mine.”

She gaped up at him for a long moment, before saying, “Jesus Christ.”

Rickon laughed at her words. “No, I’m just Rickon Stark. But, please, do tell me. Why are you down there?”

She looked away from her brother, if only to hide the reddening of her cheeks. “Uh, because, well-”

“You were trying to listen to what father and Robert Baratheon’s mysterious heir were saying?” he finished for her.

Her gaze snapped up to him. “How did you know?” 

He grinned. “Because I discovered your little peephole years ago and I’m sorry to tell you this, but I assume our father discovered it more recently, as I last eavesdropped on him before leaving for Eton for my second year. I discovered it stuffed only minutes before you entered the library. In fact,” he turned away from her, disappearing from her line of sight on the other side of the armchair. He popped up again seconds later, book in hand. The same book she’d just been reading. “I accidentally left this behind before you and Ros came in. It’s quite good, you know. Far more interesting than my schoolwork and that book I had in hand when you walked in. It was about marrying a marquess and how to go about it or something like that. Boring. This book,” he waved it around. “Has someone losing an eye or two and-”

Arya cut him off, exasperated. “Yes, I’m sure it’s as interesting as you say.” It _did_ sound rather exciting, but she needed to focus right now. “But I’m rather busy at the moment.” She gestured to the peephole that hardly any discernible sound came from.

“Yes, you’re _so_ busy listening to a conversation you can’t really hear.” He said, dryly. 

She rolled her eyes. “Then what do you suggest I do?”

His eyes glinted mischievously. “I suggest you come with me and we listen outside his study.” 

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But you and I both know his door is too thick to hear anything.”

He hummed. “I know, which is why I said we should listen _outside_ his study. I believe his window is open, and there are bushes we could hide in..”

She grinned at her brother and pushed herself up. “Okay, then let’s go out the window here. It’ll be easier if we go out unnoticed, and besides, we’re closer this way.” 

He returned the grin and hopped off the armchair, pulling it out some more to give her more room to get out. They both quickly made their way to the window, climbing up the window seat and pushing it open. That helped them enough as Arya heard the voices of her father and the duke drifting towards them. It wasn’t enough for Arya to completely hear what they were saying, but she distinctly caught the word “marriage” come from Gendry’s mouth and “I will have to think on it” from her father’s and Arya didn’t even wait for Rickon to go first and help her out, she simply hopped down from the window herself, nearly toppling to the ground before catching herself and bent forward, enough to not be seen and crept towards the window without so much as a backwards glance to her brother. But, unfortunately, by the time she got there, she heard the duke bidding her father goodbye. She let out a huff of frustration and risked a peek inside.

The duke gave a respectful nod to her father, thanking him for his time. If she hadn’t felt anger, she might’ve thought how handsome he was with the way the sunlight hit him. If she hadn’t just internally decided to completely dislike him, she might’ve thought that the sound of his voice was.. nice. But that wasn’t the case and all she wanted to do was shout that she was _never going to marry him_ . Or _anyone_ , for that matter. But Arya kept quiet, the fear of getting caught outweighed her anger. She tore her gaze from the study, and crouched back down, eyes meeting her brother’s. He seemed.. concerned. But she just shook her head. “Later,” she said, quietly, exhausted. “Let’s just go now.”

He nodded and turned away, leading them back towards the library window. He pulled himself up and then turned around, ready to help her up. But before he could, he froze, eyes widening in panic.

“What?” she asked, worriedly.

“Father’s coming this way with Robert’s son. Quick, give me your hand so I can get you inside.”

“ _No_.” She hissed, crouching back down. Rickon gave her an odd look before quickly turning around and settling back down into the window seat right as she heard the door to the library opening.

“Ah, Rickon,” she heard her father say. “Let me introduce you to the Duke of Storm’s End.” 

The introductions were quick and polite, though her brother’s voice was slightly strained.

“Have you seen your sister?” Her father asked after a beat of silence.

She quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. She knew there was no way they’d be able to hear her breathing but it also helped to keep her from making any involuntary noises, which in her state, was bound to happen. All she kept thinking was; _say no, say no, say no_.

“No,” her brother responded and she sighed in relief. “But you might want to ask Stevens, he might know.” 

The rest of the conversation was short, Gendry hardly saying anything, and soon enough, they’d left the library and Rickon was back to helping her through the window. 

With her feet finally planted firmly on the floor, she raced towards the library door and locked it. “There,” she said, quietly. 

She turned back around, only to be greeted with Rickon merely a foot away from her. She jumped again. “You have _got_ to stop doing that.” 

He stared at her for a long moment, before saying, “Why are you avoiding the duke?” 

She had to force the blush off her cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Alright then,” he moved to go around her and unlocked the door. “I’m sure he’s still in the house. It’s not too late to make introductions-”

Arya shoved him away from the door, locking it again. “Don’t you dare,” she ground out.

He grinned, triumphant. “Tell me, then.” 

The _last_ thing she wanted was to relay the tale to her brother. “How about I tell you later-” 

He cut her off. “So you can have time to come up with some fabricated story? I think not. Tell me, _now_ .” She narrowed her eyes at her brother for a long moment. He wouldn’t budge on this, she knew. So she just let out a sigh, relenting. “ _Fine_. It all started with a letter I found in father’s study…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) there are two lil nods to julia quinn in this chapter since she's the first regency romance author i ever read and she's one of my faves. one of the lil nods is more of a spoof than anything and the other is more direct.  
> 2) in case any of y'all were wondering, i DO have more planned in the area of ros & lady smallwood. :)  
> 3) i PROMISE the next chapter will come much quicker than this one did  
> 4) and the reason i even finished this chapter was bc i added rickon into the mix at the last minute, which made the rest of the chapter come together very quickly  
> 5) i love talking about this fic, it is my baby. so if anyone has any questions or things they want to know, then please feel free to message me at you-would-be-my-lady on tumblr. give me the opportunity to gush about this verse

**Author's Note:**

> westfeld is not a real place, just something i came up with for this fic as a little nod to westeros. 
> 
> you can follow me on tumblr at you-would-be-my-lady


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